


Change In (Relationship) Status

by IsobelSionisFalcone



Category: Alberto Falcone - Fandom
Genre: Arkham Origins, Batman - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7550224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsobelSionisFalcone/pseuds/IsobelSionisFalcone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alberto Falcone has had an ongoing friends with benefits relationship with a young woman for quite some time. What will happen when that relationship becomes a little more intimate and crosses the line between friends with benefits and lovers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change In (Relationship) Status

**Author's Note:**

> Alberto Falcone has had an ongoing friends with benefits relationship with a young woman for quite some time. What will happen when that relationship becomes a little more intimate and crosses the line between friends with benefits and lovers?
> 
> I can't find any Bertie fan fiction out there, so this is my contribution to a misunderstood and unappreciated character - hope you enjoy!

I still (to this very day almost a year later) have no idea how Bertie and I ended up with no clothes on. I didn’t know why or when our feelings for each other suddenly crossed the line between good friends and lovers. Actually, that would be lie. I’d checked my watch at the time to ensure we would not be interrupted (by Bertie’s father of all people!) and noted it was a minute past ten a.m. To say that we were ‘good friends’ would also be a lie as we had been involved in a very satisfactory sexual relationship for quite some time before that – about three months, perhaps? – although we were not supposed to be emotionally attached to one another more than friends were. That is the general order of a so-called ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement. At least, that’s what I’d been told.

Deep down, even before we’d had sex the first time, I’d always known I would not be able to adhere to such social expectations. Falling in love with Alberto Falcone had been far too easy. Telling him I had fallen in love with him was at the opposite end of the difficulty scale, so far opposite in fact, that it dropped off the end of the scale where it plummeted into the territory of impossibility. Doting on him was just as easy as treating him like an ordinary friend, but as a very close friend was problematic. Of course, there were several reasons for the invisible barrier that created these issues. Firstly, I worked for his father. Having to walk into Carmine Falcone’s office in the morning after I had been gripping the very table he would be leaning on the night before was no cakewalk. It was even harder if Bertie happened to be in there.

And that was another problem; we both agreed it was best that his father did not find out about our involvement with each other, or at least, not to an extent that would displease him, so we were often forced, while my boss was out on business, to carelessly pull our lower garments down and rut over his desk in the large office that all three of us could sometimes be sat in.

We had never seen each other fully naked before this incident, either, mainly because we (and by ‘we’ I mean Bertie) never thought it was necessary. We didn’t need to be slow and tender because we were friends, not passionate partners. We snuck in a quickie when we could because it was good for us; stress relief, pleasure, enjoyment, and not to mention the fact that, for those all-too-short minutes, I could pretend he really loved me. I could pretend that those cries he expelled, laced with my name, were filled with as much affection as they were pleasure, just as my groans were for him.

Why did I accept the terms of such a relationship if I knew it would be nothing more than sweet torture? The answer to that is not as complicated as one might think. I loved him. I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted to move beyond the boundaries of the companionship we had held dear since our early teenage years. I had thought Bertie was either joking or desperate when he put the idea to me, but I accepted all the same for the above reasons. I hadn’t cared for the emotional turmoil that would follow. I just wanted those moments of pure bliss. That’s all life really is, anyway; absolute misery with brief interludes of happiness. So I accepted it. I had no other choice. Not in my mind, anyway.

This time had been extraordinarily slow and tender, which was how I sussed that Bertie meant more by this than he did during our normal intimate encounters. He had peeled my blouse from my clammy skin after we had spent nearly ten minutes kissing hotly, my back pressed to the wall. I couldn’t help but think how enticingly lustful he appeared to be, his black hair falling over his brown eyes in a messy disarray, the sweat that trickled down his forehead holding it in place. His thin nose had been buried in my hair as he discovered the sweet spot beneath my right ear (something we had never bothered to do before now), sucking and nipping the sensitive skin with the upmost care that made liquid heat pool between my legs. He had made quick work of my skirt, and I of his shirt. Both were torn off with impatience, rather than haste. He curled his palms beneath my now bare thighs and lifted me into his arms, my clit catching against his belt buckle through my lacy underwear and I could not hold back the groan of hot need that shot to my throat.

Placing me down on the desk, this was when I really began to question whether or not we had crossed that fine line between friends with benefits and lovers, for he paused, lips leaving my flushed skin for much longer than a moment as he dragged a smooth fingertip down my cheek. His deep and wanting gaze bored into my needy and perhaps uncertain one, although I wish I’d been able to tell what exactly he was thinking about. Such a thing was nearly impossible at the best of times as Bertie has many mental health disorders, not to mention paranoid schizophrenia and a multiple personality disorder being two of the most prominent, so I had no idea if his ‘voices’ were telling him to do this, or whether he had suddenly realised he loved me as much as I loved him.

I hoped it was the latter.

He told me I was beautiful (which was also new) and proceeded to unclasp my bra as my hands fumbled with his belt. However, he leant forward before I’d finished, causing me to lean back as if there was some sort of iron bar that connected our bodies and we were forced to move in sync with each other. Again, his kisses were slow down the column of my throat as my back met the cold wood of the desk, travelling further down, soft nips and licks added to his arsenal of teasing techniques somewhere along the way. The closer he came to my nipples, the more they hardened and I curled my legs around his slender hips just to feel some sort of friction near my burning core. He began to circle my left nipple with his thumb as his tongue circled the right, but neither breast was having the attention they really wanted or needed.

“Please, Bertie” I whimpered, hoping he would end his almost sadistic teasing for the time being and give me the pleasure I craved.

Thankfully, he did and the combination of a firm pinch and a gentle bite to the hard nubs sent me into a state of ecstasy that was more intense than I had ever felt previously. My back arching from the hard surface and my legs tightening around his waist seemed to please him, for he groaned lustily and continued to lavish my breast with his tongue and teeth whilst his hands were occupied with his belt and trousers. The growing pile of our clothes on the floor was only missing a piece each of our underwear and Bertie’s arousal was evident through his. I bit my lip, resisting the urge (God knows how) to palm his erection through his boxers. That, I decided, could wait for another time as I lifted my hips for him, making it easier for him to slip the lacy garment down my lean legs. He dropped it to the floor and I closed my eyes, allowing his sensational touch to raise goosebumps on my flesh. His chilly hands roamed my legs for a matter of seconds, getting closer to my centre with every passing tick of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Erotic would be the best word to describe his next series of actions and that judgement is based purely on the strength of the arousal that flooded through me. Extending a hand behind him to drag his father’s desk chair closer, he sat on it and moved his head between my thighs. I could feel my entire lower region throbbing with need as he grasped my legs and threw them over his shoulders and it wasn’t long before I was nearly strangling him with them.

That hot, skilled tongue lapped up and down my folds, pressing harder on my clit every time he made an upward glide. I pulled at strands of his dark hair as his fingers delicately parted the skin on either side and he suckled my bud into his mouth.

“Fuck, Bertie!” I cried, my abdomen tightening as my hips rocked in a steady rhythm. God, he was good at this. I groaned again as he delivered a sweet bite to that most sensitive exterior part of me and shivered, my back arching again, almost painfully, with pleasure.

Let it be here recorded that Alberto Falcone has the longest fingers I’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling inside me. Whilst his mouth continued the assault on my clit, he slipped a finger into my entrance, reaching places no man had ever reached before. My toes curled as I cried out and gripped the edge of the desk with bruising force (thankfully, it was made of solid wood and there was no possibility of causing It an injury), panting, lost in an erogenous surge of raw delight. When he inserted a second finger, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop the impending orgasm that was hurtling towards me like a whirlwind – but that didn’t stop me from desperately attempting to prolong this pleasurable experience.

The continuous movements in and out of my opening stopped my breath at regular intervals as I tried to comprehend what on earth he was doing to me. The tightness in my abdomen was only growing, now nearing the point of no return as he curled his fingers to find my G-spot.

And God, did he find it. My hands flew above my head and I couldn’t stop the loud cry of pleasure that left my lips. I cursed and swore as the tightly coiled spring within in my gut snapped and I writhed atop the desk, my vision blurred with stars as my inner walls tensed around his fingers.

Slowly, I came down from my high, sweating and breathless, so exhausted that I didn’t notice Bertie rise from the chair. He praised my beauty once more as he leaned over my limp body and placed a tender kiss on my lips. This was all far too good to be real. I’d nursed a quiet passion for this man since I’d been thirteen and only now, when we’d both hit our early twenties, was this passion completely fulfilled.

Thinking on this, I realised that it was not yet fulfilled at all; he was still wearing his boxers and had an erection that was no doubt throbbing, desperately wanting for attention after he had made me come so intensely.

Even I was relieved when he removed the only barrier now preventing us from having each other, but that feeling quickly melted into a sort of desire-fuelled mischief and my body seemed to pull itself upwards, my arm reaching forward without my brain’s consent, taking his hard member into my hand and beginning steady back and forth strokes.

At any rate, I’ve digressed from my original point (trust my dirty mind to record every pornographic detail), so I shall resume where I started; as Bertie moaned, it occurred to me that all of this had happened so suddenly, I was barely aware of the fact that he was muttering sweet nothings beneath his breath; he loved me, he wanted me, I was good at this, but as soon as my mind re-attached itself to my ears, I felt some sort of great joy wash over me to finally hear him say that he really does love me. In fact, joy doesn’t even come close to what I felt. I can’t recall ever being so happy in my entire life, but my mother had always told me good things come to those who wait. I suppose that’s true. After all, I had waited for ten years for Bertie to feel the same way about me as I did about him.

Bertie began to groan quietly as he planted his palms beside my legs on the desk, steadying himself as his hips rocked against my hand. His lips found mine once more and I gladly returned his now feverish kisses vigorously, bravely slipping my tongue into his mouth as our kiss grew even hotter. I controlled this kiss, due to the fact that Bertie seemed to be overcome by pleasure, breathing heavily, his eyes closed as more sweat beaded on his brow. It made me incredibly proud to know that I had done that to him; I had aroused him, turned him into a perspiring, moaning mess and I loved it. I rubbed him a little harder and his thrusts followed suit, keeping rhythm with me as he gasped into the kiss. I kept going, curling my fingers tighter around his member, feeling it pulse as his movements became choppier, when he suddenly grasped my wrist to stop me.

“Wait…” he breathed. “I’ve got other ideas. No need to end this so soon, is there?”

I looked at him curiously, but when he plucked his belt from the floor, everything from my waist down tightened deliciously. I bit my lip in excitement as he grinned and asked me to lean over the desk. Watching him pull the leather through the buckle so it made a loop, my core stared to heat up once more, renewed eagerness making me furl and unfurl my hands over and over again. My elbows took my weight as I introduced my backside to the warm air, but no sooner had I felt him delicately stroke the smooth skin than the crack of the belt sounded, stinging pleasurably as I hissed to show him just how much I liked it. I felt my clit throb in the aftershock and expected him to deliver the next blow, but I often forgot that, although Bertie was somewhat psychologically disturbed, he could also be gentle and considerate.

Instead of whipping the belt across my bottom again, he first soothed the emerging red mark with a soft caress that made me shiver. He did this between each stroke of the leather across my skin, ensuring that I was feeling more pleasure than pain. This was another sign that Bertie was serious about actually loving me. He wasn’t only doing this to satisfy his desires, but mine, too. He wanted me to feel good and he wasn’t holding back. This alone made me feel much more special (in want of a better word) than I should have done.

“Do you like that, babydoll?” he asked, his voice dripping with seduction as he brought the belt down on my backside again.

I could not answer him, or at least, not with words. “Ah!” I gasped, my fingers and toes curling as my nails left marks in the desk. I knew either I or Bertie would have to explain how they got there, but that was only a distant notion in my current state. The dull ache between my legs was starting to become unbearable and I knew the only way it would be soothed would be by Bertie’s member inside me. That was all I wanted just then and he either seemed to notice my growing desperation, or felt it himself and tossed his belt to the side.

The soft skin of my rear prickled and was no doubt red, but he had given me so much pleasure in the process that I hardly cared. He proceeded to lean over me, his body seeming to fit the curve of my spine perfectly as he nibbled on my earlobe.

“Do you want it like this?” He asked, making my insides clench with need.

“Yes!” I cried. “God, yes! Any way you want! Please, Bertie!”

My whole body tingled when he lay his hands on my hips (thankfully, I’d been taking the pill for quite a while due to the nature of our relationship and the fact that, even though Bertie normally had condoms in his wallet, he couldn’t be relied upon all the time to remember) and, with unbelievable patience, entered me slowly. I could not have found the words to describe how so very good it felt as he eased deeper, making me moan and gasp as his breathing grew heavy, again. My forehead was pressed to the desk and I was shaking with anticipation, my breaths coming out more like groans as my nails dug into my palms. When he had at last gone as deep as he could, he let out a shaky breath and waited for me to become accustomed to his impressive length and girth.

It didn’t take long and I signalled to him that he could move by tipping my hips back, eager to create the friction that would bring me release. Bertie started off fairly slowly, his body rolling back and forth, although his thrusts were deep and so intensely pleasurable that I had to grit my teeth

“God, Bertie…” I whispered, my voice losing its power as his movements seemed to gain more. I could feel his grip on my hips tightening, enough to bruise as he let a moan slip past his lips. It wasn’t only my breathing that was shallow, either; he definitely seemed to be enjoying himself, more so than usual, which I was of course glad of. Even so, I couldn’t help but wonder what had caused this sudden alteration in our relationship.

He certainly knew what he was doing, but I reminded myself that we’d done this many times before. I began to gyrate my hips to increase the friction created between us and he seemed to like this, releasing an animalistic groan onto my shoulder as he bent over me again to give my neck a playful nip. Gasping, I responded by pushing back onto him harder. From there, I don’t think either of us was really aware of anything that was going on around us. The office was a blur and the only sounds I could hear were our breathing and the rhythmic banging of the desk as Bertie began to slam into me hard. Even my own loud and desperate groans, which outmatched his by far, I was oblivious to and once again, I could feel the pressure building in my abdomen to another climax that would no doubt be even more intense than the first.

But there was something I had to know.

“Bertie…” I whimpered through the haze of lust that clouded both the room and my head. “Why now? What’s – agh, God! – what’s changed?”

“Nothing,” he hissed, an action I’m sure was meant to soothe, although the effort he was now putting into his thrusts and the pure pleasure that coursed through him made the whisper turn into something much more thrilling.

Nothing? Was that his answer? It couldn’t have been, could it? That would mean he’d felt the same way about me that I always had about him. I wouldn’t have believed it had he not said it himself. Although now that I thought about it, I realised that Bertie and I were pretty well suited to each other. After all, we’d known each other for years and I’d always been there for him. Through thick and thin, I’d stayed by him, even when he thought he didn’t want me to, and helped him manage his mental health disorders. But it wasn’t as one-sided as everybody thought; with him, I could really be myself and we were always honest with each other. I wasn’t afraid to tell him what I thought and I never felt that he had been silently criticizing me. He was also the only real friend I’d ever had, considering my parents were murdered when I was young and I had always found it difficult to join any social group, but Bertie had never cared about that. We often told each other how glad we were of the other’s company. Perhaps this had been inevitable…

Just then, the power of thought and speech deserted me as another orgasm came crashing down on me, driving me to crying out and arching my back again, writhing against my new-found lover as I felt him climax too. He buried himself deep and, with one final groan, his member twitched and he spilled his hot seed inside me. I managed to utter that I loved him in my exhaustion and my heart jumped as he told me the same. I really do wish that we had gone on uninterrupted for the rest of eternity the way we were, his cheek softly nuzzling my shoulder as I regained my breath, but that, it seemed, was not to be.

We both jumped when the door opened, our natural instincts telling us to spring apart even though we were both stark naked.

Carmine’s eyes were drawn to the both of us for only an instant as he suddenly realised what we had been doing. I folded my arms over my chest as Bertie looked a little more than sheepish and his father averted his eyes from our sweat-covered bodies.

“Geez…” was the first thing he said. I was trying to will Bertie with my mind to pass me his jacket so I could attempt to regain at least some of my modesty, but I had no such luck. “Get out of my office, both of you,” he said, although he didn’t sound angry like I’d expected him to, just shocked. “Bertie, you and I are going to talk about this, later.”

I didn’t think Bertie was going to move, but a grin flashed across his face and he proceeded to pick me up. I really didn’t want to be in the middle of anything that was going to occur between those two, but it seemed Bertie held no such worries.

“I’m glad you see it my way, Dad,” he replied pleasantly, heading for the door.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Carmine asked, but Bertie smiled through it all.

“We’ve got some unfinished business to attend to,” he answered cheerily as he carried me towards his bedroom.

 

“What are you thinking about?” a rather relaxed, albeit wet Bertie asks me, half-heartedly swatting at me from his position in the bath tub. He’s settled between my thighs as I attempt to help him relax.

“You and me sat here like this just reminded me of the time when your father walked in on us having sex in his office,” I giggle, feeling the muscles in his back lose some of their tension under my skilled hands as I massage the soreness out of them. Sat behind him, I’ve got a good view of his face in the polished taps and I can see him grin as he says;

“I was wondering why you slowed down.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Please comment to let me know what you think!


End file.
